Raven's Fury
by Bossproject
Summary: When the Capellan Confederation under House Liao lashes out at the fractured borders of the Free Worlds League, mercenary outfits descend to both sides of the battlefield, eager to make some sweet C-Bills and a name for themselves. One such outfit is Raven's Fury, a Light/Medium Lance under the command of Alec "Ace" Mason, who seeks profit on the contested planet of Andurien V.
1. Prologue: Tuning In

Prologue: Tuning In

_. . . . . . Fires erupting all across the border between the Capellan Confederation and the Free Worlds League this week, as the CCAF strikes out at key holdings all across their spinward border with the holdings of League. The attacks have been lightning fast and highly coordinated, leaving very little time to respond before the next front lights up. Though the other Houses have sounded off against the actions of House Liao, the leadership of the House itself has remained suspiciously silent, with its current chancellor, Daoshen Liao, refusing to make any comment on the actions of his military. House Marik, currently still recovering from its devastating fracturing, is struggling to formulate a response to this attack, and some analysts believe that, by the time the FWLM finally deploy, it will be too late . . . . _

_. . . . . . Reporting live from the FWLM DropShip Flame of Liberation, in orbit above the planet of Andurien V, capital world of the Duchy of Andurien. This now contested province of the Free Worlds League has become the central battleground of the Capellan Confederation's invasion, and the rulers of House Marik have sworn to the people of the formerly independent duchy that the aggressions of House Liao will end here and now, and that they will begin retaking their fallen worlds once the advance of the Confederation has been halted. To this end, this dropship, and many like it, are now deploying masses of troops, mechs, combat vehicles, and supplies to the surface of Andurien, in numbers not seen since the Clan Invasions. Officers on board have refused to comment . . . ._

_. . . . . . Thank you, Steven. I'm standing here with Captain Devlin Carmack of the 8th Legionnaires Aerospace Wing, outside the FWLM Command Center here in Jojoken, capital city of Andurien. Captain Carmack, thank you for joining me._

_You're welcome. And please, sweetheart, call me Dev._

_Well, thank you Dev. Now, the viewers at home want to know, what sort of plan does the FWLM have to combat the Capellan advance?_

_Well Sally, I can't discuss too much, as many aspects of the plan are above my paygrade._

_Can you give us any sort of insight into what the military is doing._

_I can tell you that the Free Worlds League Military has the situation well in hand. _

_So we have nothing to worry about._

_Of course. FWLM High Command has a plan in place to kick the Capellans off the planet before a galactic standard week is out. The Anduriens will have their planet back before they can even blink._

_Bold words indeed. So tell me, what role does an Aerospace wing play in all this fighting?_

_Well, when it comes to combat, we usually play support rolls. _

_So you don't do any direct fighting then?_

_Of course we do, if you'll allow me to continue. Our wing plays a direct role in intercepting Capellan DropShips, preventing them from landing any more troops on the continent of Zahle. Considering we're better equipped than most Capellan conventional fighters, our presence allows the boys on the ground to focus on the enemy._

_Does that mean Capellan aerospace wings are no threat._

_No, but we have other wings equipped for aerospace combat._

_Excellent. Now, one more thing, before we cut to break._

_Of course._

_Sightings have been reported of a DropShip landing in the FWLM Staging Area, outside Jojoken, one bearing the markings of Clan Ghost Bear. Are the FWLM contracting mercenaries from the Clans? Or are these elements acting independently._

_No Comment._

_Sir?_

_This interview is over, shut that camera off . . . . _

_. . . . . . Hello, this is Kianna Marisel, live from Teravin's Reach, a village on the front lines of the Capellan advance. The situation here has turned desperate, as more and more Capellan DropShips make landfall on the continent. THe FWLM has managed to establish a battle line, and are attempting to fortify it, but as of right now, lightning strikes and concentrated fire from Capellan units in the field are making it quite a harrowing task. We've received word that . . . Wait, hold on . . . What do you mean, they're advancing? Now? Alright, shut the camera off, we need to . . . . wait do you hear that . . . Missile fire, get down! Get-_

**Attention, passengers. This is Captain Ahab of the **_**Ardent Star.**_** I'd like to inform you that we will be completing our jump to the Andurien system within the next five minutes. Please report to your transports and prepare to disembark. A reminder: the Andurien system is currently an active war zone, and you have travelled here at your own risk. Know that the crew of this JumpShip are not responsible for any injuries received once you have disembarked. If any transportation crews are on opposite sides of this conflict, we ask that you wait until you have travelled the prerequisite one hundred and twenty-five miles before opening fire, so as the JumpShip is not caught in the fray. Thank you for travelling with us, and we hope you consider the **_**Ardent Star **_**for your return journey.**


	2. Chapter 1: Landfall on Andurien

Chapter One: Landfall on Andurien

It was the rumblings of atmo that woke him. A rhythmic, pulsating shake as the ship he was on entered the atmosphere of the planet Andurien, a turbulent sign that the ship's journey was almost at an end. As the man sat up in his bed, rubbing the sleep in his eyes, he felt the second rumble, then the third. He began to count them as he felt the ship begin to level out, and looked up at the speaker in his room. _Five, four, three, two, one . . . _

"Captain Reznov, Hiroshi here. We've broken atmo over Andurien, E.T.A to destination: thirty five minutes."

The Captain nodded, shaking himself awake and stretching. "What's the situation in the air? Are we going to have any trouble landing?" He asked, knowing the state of the planet below.

"Nothing too serious, Captain," Hiroshi replied. "We've got a couple of light engagements, mostly CCAF sorties making noise on the front line. We'll be landing well away from them."

"Good work, Hiro. Any response from the staging area yet?"

"Davis has already made contact and secured a landing zone for us. He made sure to get one next to a good mech garage for our passengers. Payment for space is on them though."

"Of course. Tell Davis I'll be up shortly," said Reznov. The bearded brunette brute of a man rolled his shoulders as the intercom shut off, standing up and slowly dressing himself. His clothes weren't extremely glamorous: a pair of blue jeans, white undershirt, and black leather flight jacket to go above it. He was never a fan of the more self-glorifying forms of dress used by other captains on more civilized worlds, not that it even mattered up in space. As he dressed, he slowly moved over to a counter in his room, which held a picture of his wife and a coffee brewer, both of which he needed to wake up and complete his morning routine. A tender smile crossed his bearded face as he looked over the face of his beautiful Nadia, before reaching over and pressing a button on the coffee maker, a gift from the aforementioned beloved. As he slowly watched the black substance brewing before him, he began to think about the day, and the few passengers he was hauling.

He was only hauling four passengers this time, but considering the nature of their passage, he wasn't concerned. All four of them were Mechwarriors, with three of them piloting Assault Mechs, and all four of them had paid handsomely for the trip out of FedSun territory and into the newly ignited warzone. Reznov didn't blame them: Both sides were pouring out heaps of C-Bills to whoever would take the pay. Word was that the General in charge of the CCAF's forces planetside had already shelled out for Wolf's Dragoons, who had landed their Alpha and Beta Regiments. Meanwhile, though the FWLM would never make it official, 'mechs bearing the colors of Clan Ghost Bear had been seen on patrol surrounding the massive staging area that had been set up outside Jojoken, the capital city of Andurien. The three Assault pilots seemed eager to test their metal against the might of Clan Ghost Bear, the FWLM seeming like an afterthought. The fourth one, however . . . he was younger, more wet behind the ears. Reznov swore up and down he couldn't be more than sixteen. He was piloting a light mech as well, which had Reznov questioning his sanity, though he had paid, so his passage was secure.

Reznov was snapped out of his reverie by the loud 'ding' of the coffee maker, and looked down with a pleased smile at the dark brown liquid filling the pot. He selected his favorite mug from the two sitting beside the coffee machine, and poured himself a glass. Once he had made himself presentable, he banged the button that opened the door to his chambers. Grunting in annoyance as the door stuttered open, he made the fifth mental note in a row to have it fixed, before stepping out into the hallway, and looking out the viewport that lined it. The window opened up into a massive view of the planet before them, allowing Reznov to get a feel for what he was landing on.

The first thing that caught his eye was the weather, and in his mind, it immediately explained the reason for the constant turbulence. The sky was full of dark grey clouds, roiling across the expanse in a sort of tossing sea. Rain poured in a ceaseless torrent from their depths, coming down hard and obscuring his view as he looked over the scenery of the continent of Zahle. Lighting coursed across the skies, though it was far enough away that it wouldn't be a concern. Even through the viewport, he could hear the loud rumbling of thunder coming off of the storm as it lashed those below. No matter how large the storm was, however, there was one thing it couldn't mask: the front line. Before breaking atmo, he had been in agreement with the other Mechwarriors, that the frontline wouldn't really light up until the CCAF breached Altay. Upon observation, the situation was much different: even from a distance, Reznov could see explosions lighting up the battle lines. Lasers and PPC's burned streaks through the darkened expanse of no man's land, lighting the battlefield up blue, green and red. Explosions lit up like bright orbs, as various mechanized units traded missile fire, each trying to damage or eliminate the other. In the air, lights and flashes could be seen, as aerospace and conventional fighters engaged in vicious dogfights, wreathed and obscured by the heavy cloud cover. As Reznov watched on, the view before him shifted, and the ship tilted slightly beneath him, as Hiroshi banked, adjusting their heading towards what the captain assumed was the staging area for the CCAF.

"Well," He said to nobody. "Time to wake the passengers." 

Without waiting on the reply he knew wasn't coming, he turned, and made his way through the mostly empty hallways. His crew was most likely already manning their stations, preparing the ship for landing, so Reznov didn't worry about their apparent absence. Taking a sip of his coffee, he punched the number on the lift for the mech bays, and stepped inside, taking another sip of black liquid and savoring it as the door closed. The lift shot down the tube very quickly, and Reznov hadn't even had time to finish his coffee before the doors shot open, revealing the bustling mech bays.

The usually empty mech bays were full of life today, as the crew worked tirelessly to get the mech's within ready for departure. Considering three out of the four mechs they were hauling were assault mechs, there was a lot to do. All three were packing a wide assortment of weapons, each with separate ammo types, all of whom had to be organized and prepared for off loading when the Mechwarriors finally disembarked. Checks had to be made, to ensure no damage had been done on the transition through atmo (normally Hiroshi was good about that sort of thing, but it never hurt to be sure). Finally, the Mechwarriors of each mech had to go through a thorough check themselves and make sure everything was ready to go before they disembarked, so that nothing was left to chance. _And people say being a Mechwarrior is easy, _Reznov mused as he stepped out into the Mech Bays, nodding to the greetings he received from the grizzled engineers as he began to walk the line, eyeing up the individual mechs as he passed.

First up was Jin Carraway, hailing all the way from the Draconis Combine, around it's southern border with the Federated Suns. Jin rode forth in his home territory's colors, piloting a BLR-10S _BattleMaster. _The massive mech stood at a whopping 85 tonnes, towering over the engineers below it, a beast on the battlefield. Constructed for extended range engagements, it was quite an asset for any military to have, as was it's Mechwarrior. Jin Carraway came with a long list of distinctions. Service in the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery, veteran status even, having seen action against the Jihad, the Clans, the Dark Ages even. He came with multiple accolades for his service, and after cutting loose from the DCMS, was here to seek his fortunes, test his metal against the iron will of Clan Ghost Bear. He stood, grizzled and weathered, a checklist in hand, going over the cockpit settings on his trustworthy mech, or as he called it, his "Metal Brother." As Reznov caught his eye with a wave, the man nodded simply, and went about his business, as did Reznov.

Next up was the silent one, Roberto "Killshot" Velasquez, a Mechwarrior hailing from the colonial reaches of the Taurian Concordat, way out in the mid-Periphery. He didn't say much about himself, but the recommendation he was carrying from a general high up in the Taurian Defense Force spoke volumes. Not the writ itself, which Roberto had refused to grant anyone a viewing, but rather the fact that it had got him an automatic in with the Wolf's Dragoons. He sat in the cockpit of his mech, the LGB-7V _Longbow_, a support assault mech with extensive long range capabilities, including two Artemis IV assisted LRM-20 launchers and an ER Large Laser. Standing at a respectable 85 tonnes, the long range beast was a perfect support platform for long term engagements, sieges, and assaults on entrenched positions. Considering what was coming out of Zahle news-wise, the Dragoons (and by extension, the CCAF) were going to need that power.

Speaking of power, the final of the three assault mechs typified such a thing, as did her Mechwarrior: Juliette Haroldson, out of the Lyran Commonwealth. She was built strong for a Lyran, standing almost as tall as most Clanners, with the warlike attitude to match. Word on the HPG was that she had killed her own parents, taken their mech, and slaughtered the pirate band she had been born into, before hitching a ride off of the asteroid belt she called home. Reznov wasn't one to bank on rumors, but when he had come face to face with the young lady, even he had put some stock in this one. The Mechwarrior was a perfect reflection of her Mech, the ZEU-9T _Zeus. _Of the three assaults on board, this variant was, in Reznov's opinion, the heaviest hitter. Packing an ER PPC, an LRM-15 with Artemis IV support, an ER Large Laser, two ER Medium Lasers, and two Medium Pulse Lasers, the Mech was equipped for almost anything the CCAF would assign it. With the armor and ammo capacity it was packing, it could take on any assignment, fight with any lance, and would most likely be the linchpin of any advance strategy. The blonde, muscular bombshell of a Mechwarrior was currently hashing out payment with one of Reznov's coordinators, every other task complete.

Reznov sighed and took another sip of coffee, as he turned his head away from the mighty _Zeus, _and towards the last of his mech bays, wherein stood a crowd of idle workers and engineers. Cases of ammunition sat neatly boxed away, ready for transport, so Reznov knew they had done their job. Seemed like the kid was the only one not finished. The kid in question was probably the newest blood of the four. How he had even gotten his hands on a mech at his age was beyond Reznov, as the kid largely kept to himself, not bothering to socialize with the crew, and spending most of his time in the cockpit of his mech, only coming out to take showers, eat, and get exercise. He only knew two things for certain: A) His name was Robert Waylin, and B) He was slinging enough money around for the good Captain not to ask too many questions. As much of a mystery as the kid was, so too was his mech, or at least how he got it. The FLS-P5 _FlashFire _was a mech rarely seen outside the gladiatorial pits of Solaris VII, much less on a battlefield like Andurien. Being the only light mech in the bay, it stuck out like a sore thumb, barely making it to thirty tonnes in total weight. What it lacked in weight, however, it made up for in armament, with a versatile weapons set suited for long range and close range encounters. One shoulder mounted SRM-6 and four ER Small Lasers for long-range engagements, a pair of Fluid Guns to add some unpredictability to the mech's arsenal, and a layer of large spikes on one arm to add some punch to close engagements. Idly, Reznov wondered what kind of fluid that the man was packing, as he wandered up to his head mechanic, who was doing a final check.

"Is he still not awake yet?" He asked, to which his head mechanic shrugged.

"Nope," He said, running one hand over his beard, ever the man of few words. "Ain't even come out of his cockpit."

"Not even for his checks?"

"Nope."

"Breakfast?"

"Nope."

"Does he even know we're landing?"

"Pro'lly not."

Reznov sighed, taking another drink of his coffee, before handing the half empty cup to his mechanic. He nodded for the man to just set it down anywhere, before heading up to the ladder that scaled to the cockpit. He grumbled under his breath as he began to make his way up the ladder, rung by rung, idly counting the rust stains and pits in his head before he finally made it up to the top, coming face to face with the window of the cockpit. Looking over his shoulder once again at the mechanics, who were looking at him expectantly, before reaching out and banging on the cockpit.

-Inside the Cockpit-

_Bang, Bang, Bang_

_Father, what's going on?_

_Bang, Bang, Bang_

_Son you need to go, now._

_Bang Bang Bang_

_But why are they doing this?_

_Bang, Bang, Bang_

_There's no time . . . take this access key, take the FlashFire, and don't stop until you see the sunrise._

_Bang Bang Bang_

_Hey . . . Hey . . . Hey! Wake up in there!_

The eyes of Robert Weylin snapped open, awoken by the incessant pounding on his cockpit. He looked around blearily, reaching up to rub the sleep from weary eyes as he took stock of his surroundings, re-orienting himself. His vision came into focus, revealing the slightly cramped cockpit of his mech. Lights and diodes sat silent and dim, nobs untouched, controls ready to activate and send the war machine he was piloting into action. He looked down, noticing the notes scattered around his cockpit, and realized he must have fallen asleep during a check. As he eyed one note, realization dawned on him.

_Shit . . . I fell asleep during my departure checks!_

Slowly, Robert raised his hands and ran them through his short, black hair, green eyes straining to see out the dimmed cockpit. The young man collected his clothes and slowly began to dress himself for the day, maneuvering himself around the tight space in order to slide each article on. A black t-shirt, frayed at the sleeves, fit tightly over a slightly scrawny frame, followed by a pair of ripped denim blue jeans, with few odds and ends stuck inside. As he looked around to see if he missed anything else, he saw his black combat boots, a pair of socks stuffed inside. As he reached down to grab them, he felt something small knock against his head, and looked up to see what it was.

His eyes softened as his gaze rested on the offending item. Suspended by a thin gold chain from the top of the cockpit was a small, oval shaped locket, marked with the symbol of a small sword on the outer face. The golden surface of the piece was smudged and worn, as if it hadn't been polished for a fair bit of time (which it hadn't). The chain wasn't much better, with each of the tiny links probably ending up as smudged as the face, if Robert had taken the time to look closely. As he raised his head up, the young Mechwarrior gently reached out, a soft smile on his face, and took the locket in his hand. He opened it for a brief moment, looking over its contents, running one scrawny finger across it, before closing up the the locket again and taking it from its perch on the roof of the cockpit. He draped it across his neck, feeling the slight pull as the weight of the locket pressed the chain into his skin, and looked over his reflection, falling into a slight reverie as he looked into his own youthful reflection, before a loud banging snapped him from his trance.

_Bang, bang, bang._

"Hey! Mr. Weylin! Wake up in there!"

Robert snapped his gaze to the side, noting the direction of the noise, and recognizing the gruff speech patterns of Captain Reznov. Reaching over, he slapped the open button on the cockpit, bringing his other hand up to shield his eyes as it began to open up, allowing the bright lights of the mech bay to stream in. To his right, Captain Reznov was perched on the top of the ladder, his features contorted into an irate scowl as he looked down at the scrawny Mechwarrior, who hurried to get the rest of the check papers together. The Captain sighed, wishing he hadn't left his coffee mug with the chief mechanic, as he watched Robert stand up, a messy bundle of papers clutched in a pair of gloved hands. The pale faced lad smiled sheepishly in greetings, waiving up to the Captain as he stood in his cockpit seats.

"Good Morning, Captain," He said in greeting.

"Surprised you know what time it is," The Captain replied, his accent coming in thick.

"Is it . . . not morning?"

"Mid-Afternoon, according to our calculations. Landing area for the CCAF's on the night side of Andurien."

"Ahhhhh. I take it we'll be landing . . ."

"In thirty minutes," Reznov said bluntly. "I'd advise you finish your final checks now, or save it 'till you store your 'mech."

"Will we be landing near a proper 'mech garage or storage facility?" Robert asked, already checking off the rest of his cockpit list.

"The CCAF has set up a grouping of garages and storage facilities for any prospective Mechwarriors. We're landing near a good 'mech garage, but payment for space is up to you." 

"Are the rest of the checks complete?"

"My crew's done its job," Reznov replied, this time punctuated by some rumbling. The 'mech bay began to tremble slightly, and the crew members rushed to lock everything down as the bay began to tilt. Reznov looked up, taking his radio out of his pocket and calling up to the cockpit.

"Talk to me, Hiro," He said gruffly.

"Sorry about that, Cap," came the reply, Hiroshi's voice sounding more than a little harried. "We've got a sortie heading our way. Multiple IFF's from both sides. I'm adjusting course to avoid it, but still: it's looking like this might get dicey."

Reznov nodded, and leaned back from the ladder. "Everybody ready yourself, things are going to get dicey," he hollered, sending the crew members scattering towards the various 'mechs, tying down the various crates of ammunition, as each Mechwarrior clambered into their cockpit. Robert, for his part, slammed the cockpit back down, and strapped himself in, watching as Reznov slid down the ladder, grabbing his coffee and running to the lift. Even in the controlled environment of his 'mech cockpit, the young Mechwarrior could still feel the ship tilt and rumble, as the pilot fought against both weather and g-force in an attempt to keep them away from the conflict in the air. He heard shouting outside the cockpit, as mechanics and technicians called to one another, shouting over what seemed to be quite the din outside. He swallowed slightly, counting the seconds in between the rumbles, trying to calm himself by telling himself that the captain and pilot had things well in hand. He felt his 'mech tilt in its support, as the ship moved from one side to the other. Robert began to count the tilts, wondering what maneuvers the pilot was making.

_One _

_Two_

_Three_

_Four_

_Five_

_Six_

At the sixth tilt, Robert felt the transport craft level out, and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. The young man didn't want to end up a pile of blood and bone before he even set foot on Andurien, nor did he want to become another mark on the nose of some League fighter. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, his nerves frayed, before unstrapping himself with shaky hands. Reaching over, he pressed the button, opening the cockpit once more, before clambering out and sliding down the ladder, moving to make his checks. As he checked over the various munitions and pieces of equipment surrounding his _FlashFire, _Reznov's grizzled voice sounded out over the monitors, echoing through the crowded mech bay: "Landfall in ten minutes, repeat, landfall in ten minutes. All Mechwarriors, complete your final checks and prepare to disembark. All crew members to the mech bay, get ready to offload equipment to the garages."

_S.S. Arjuna's Chariot to tower control, do you read?_

_Arjuna's Chariot, this is tower control, we read you loud and clear. State your purpose._

_Just hauling idiots looking to die._

_Copy that. Please transmit clearance codes._

_Roger that, transmitting now._

_Codes received. Please head to the appropriate docking area with all due haste. Do not alter your course, repeat, do not alter your course._

_Understood, tower control. Setting course now._

_So . . . what kind of idiot you hauling this time?_

_Mechwarriors. _

_Ooooooh, tasty. Definitely looking to die then._

_Here's hoping they don't _

_We'll alert the nearby garage to your arrival, Arjuna's Chariot. _

_Much obliged, tower control. _

_You going to be here long?_

_Probably just long enough to refuel. Maybe a day or two._

_Well, if you have the time . . . . _

_. . . . I'll see what I can do. Arjuna's Chariot, signing off._


End file.
